Page 9 of Flock Around and Find Out (Flocking It Up #3)

Ruben

How could a person be this soft ? Grey’s skin was beyond anything I’d ever felt before, reaching deeper than I thought possible.

It was as though she had a direct connection to something inside me, something I could no longer reach myself.

People said that Justices had no feelings, and they were neither completely right nor completely wrong. It rested somewhere in between those two things.

We had feelings, somewhere, but remained so detached from them that we rarely noticed them. They certainly didn’t affect us.

Even sex was something we didn’t crave, hardly engaged in.

On occasion a Justice would choose to, but it was rare. We simply didn’t feel that need, so disconnected with lust to fall prey to such petty, primal experiences.

So why had my cock hardened? Why did my heart pound faster than it had during countless battles before?

And why did the tiny trembles of her thighs excite me this much?

It made no sense. That was the reason I’d found an interest in her from the start, because I couldn’t believe that I had a reaction to her like that, that I wanted her in a way I never had wanted anyone before.

I’d assumed it a fluke, something caused by her unknown designation. At times, over the years, I’d even thought she was a test or a punishment, something crafted to yank me down into my own personal hell.

Now I wondered if she wasn’t the opposite—perhaps my only chance at real salvation.

I tried to focus on the massage—I truly did.

That was the entire purpose of this, after all, to help since I knew she hurt. I didn’t enjoy seeing her in pain, and I wanted to ease her as much as I could.

However, after I had seen her standing there in the robe, I struggled to recall any of that. It no longer was just helping her to feel better.

I wanted to touch her for reasons that had nothing to do with her aching. I wanted to tug the tie at her waist, to part the terrycloth that hid her, to see every inch of her displayed for me.

It was a strange desire.

That wasn’t to say I hadn’t thought about such things with her before. She had plagued my dreams and fantasies in the time since she had trampled into my life, disrupting everything I previously thought solid.

The difference was that this was the first time the need to act on such thoughts took such a firm hold. I couldn’t ignore it as I usually did, couldn’t relegate it to some dark crevice of my fragmented mind. Instead, it took over, returning time and time again with each movement she made.

I tried to focus on the massage as I worked out knots in her thighs, up to the edge of the robe. It fell just above mid-thigh, so enough to cover everything and keep much of the needed work area inaccessible.

“I’m going to need to go under the robe,” I said, wondering if that was really my voice. It was deeper, darker than usual. It had this animalistic quality to it that startled me, that I didn’t recognize at all.

The whites of her teeth appeared as she took her bottom lip between them and nodded.

Was she nervous?

I hesitated for a moment, worrying I might have scared her. A deep inhalation said no—what she felt wasn’t fear at all. A spice wafted in the air, and I knew enough to identify it as her arousal.

Clearly, she didn’t oppose this after all.

I took her agreement—along with her excitement—as consent and slipped my fingers beneath the edges of her robe. I forced myself to stay on task, working at the quad muscles on each leg.

It felt different, though, lewd in a strange way, since I had to reach beneath her clothing to touch her. It felt as though we were doing something forbidden, and it made my cock ache all the more.

She parted her legs when I reached toward the inside, the movement subtle but something I noticed instantly. It was a welcome, a trust I’d never expected, one I hadn’t expected to ever earn or deserve.

She swallowed hard but again did that same movement, shifting her legs just enough to tease me, to offer me something that I still didn’t feel fully ready to accept.

Memories of my past life, before I turned into this, were there, locked away, like something detached, like a play I had once seen but felt nothing about. I’d had sex then, of course, had enjoyed it, but I struggled to connect that with me now. I didn’t know what it any of it meant.

I slipped my hands around one of her thighs, grasping her on both sides of it, then massaged the muscle. It felt intimate, to have one of my hands between her legs. I focused on the back of the muscle, moving until I reached the curve of her ass.

Again, I slowed to a crawl to see if she would tell me to stop, if she’d object.

If she did, I would, of course.

Nothing. In fact, she shifted her other leg, bending at the knee and letting it fall open in a clear invitation.

I pressed the knee of the leg I held and pushed it outward as well, to splay her legs wide. It caused the robe to ride up, to open just enough for me to see…everything.

Pinkness sat on her cheeks, and she’d closed her eyes. This was such a Grey thing to do, to know damn well that I could see her pussy but pretend I couldn’t, to leave me with the torturous decision between telling her the truth and covering her up or letting it go and seeing where it led.

I for sure planned on the second of those options.

I ran my fingers softly up her inner thigh, savoring the way her muscles reacted with tiny twitches from the stimulation. I traced the inner crease of her leg, digging in slightly to the hip joint there, the back of my hand coming close enough to her cunt that the warmth teased me.

Fuck, this was a dangerous game we played.

I massaged her ass, the large muscles there, and each stroke of my hands caused her pussy to part slightly, to twitch.

I, who had faced off against countless Spirits over my years as a Justice, struggled not to allow my hands to shake. It was almost humiliating, yet a part of me didn’t mind being brought low if it were by this person.

I had a feeling that nearly anything she did would be just fine by me, that I’d accept it, even revel in it.

And the sensation of feeling something new, something unexpected after so many years of feeling nothing intoxicated me.

Her eyes remained shut tight, her head tipped backward to expose her throat. Her tie had loosened enough to cause the robe to gap farther, so I didn’t have to reach below it anymore. It didn’t show her breasts, but exposed a valley of flawless skin between them, a space that ran down to show her belly button, her soft stomach, like a runway for me to drag my tongue.

But that would require moving from where I was, and I doubted I had the control to do that.

I shifted my hands in more, dancing dangerously close to her pussy as I massaged her ass, as I rubbed the inner creases of her thighs. Each pass let me inch closer to the goal that called to me, to that glistening slit that I wanted so badly to touch.

Yet we played this stupid game. Neither of us thought this was just a massage any longer, but that lie allowed us as to pretend and made it easier.

My fingers ghosted over her cunt, and she jerked from the contact. It was so slight that I hardly felt her at all, but her reaction said she’d felt it.

I paused, wondering if she’d tell me off, if she’d tell me to stop touching her.

Nothing.

If anything, she spread her legs wider.

That was an invitation, right?

I suddenly wished I were better with women, that I had something more to offer her than strange, old instincts that I couldn’t fully understand or explain.

However, those fears and doubts couldn’t stand against the need inside me, so I let myself go. I stopped trying to control this, to control myself, to do the logical thing.

Instead, I scooted back and bent forward, lifting her body just a little, to bring her cunt and my lips together. It felt like an obvious thing to do, as though some part of me still existed that could feel these things, these wants.

I ran my tongue up her cunt, and my first true taste of her lingered like rapture.

As it turned out, heaven or hell, I didn’t give a damn. I wanted this woman no matter where she led me.

Grey

The stroke of Ruben’s tongue against my cunt was all together unexpected. I didn’t know how much experience he had—I was guessing not a lot—and given how tentative he’d been, I figured he’d be more a fumbling asshat when trying this sort of thing. In my experience, those who didn’t know what they were doing tended to go right for the action, to satisfy their own desires.

To be fair, I was okay with that. A little rough, inexperienced sex had its benefit some of the time, after all, and if it was Ruben, I was pretty sure I could forgive most things.

Instead, he decides to eat me out? It was almost enough to make me laugh—if it wasn’t for the movements of his tongue against my folds.

Again, men often had no fucking idea what they were doing and treated eating a girl out like it was just a quick kindness—with lots of drool—hoping that was enough. Not Ruben, though. Instead, his every touch seemed centered on discovering my entire pussy, of ensuring no tiny piece of me went unmapped with his tongue and his lips.

I made no sounds—I was sure of that—but he must have paid attention to my breathing or any other way my body betrayed my true feelings, because anything that felt exceptionally good, he repeated as though to make sure he’d gotten it right.

It meant it didn’t take long, between the massage and his skilled lips, that he brought me so close to release that I wondered if I could hold out.

I didn’t normally hold back much. That wasn’t my style. I much preferred letting myself go. It wasn’t like coming once was going to end a night, after all, and there was nothing worse than trying to hold back and never finding that place again, than going to bed wound up and horny all because I’d tried to resist.

It was like refusing dinner because you thought you were getting something better later, than that thing getting canceled, so you had to go to sleep hungry.

I didn’t like sleeping hungry or horny, so I rarely resisted.

However, something about this moment felt so fragile, I feared interrupting it. Funny to think about Ruben as innocent, but a part of me worried that if I came, he might get scared off, that he’d skitter back to the friend zone we’d been in before if I dared break this little game we played.

His lips left my body for a moment though his breath still warmed me. “Go ahead,” he whispered, the words absolutely sinful in the small, silent room. “This will help you sleep, too.”

That shook apart any fantasies, and I wondered if I’d be able to come at all after it.

Sleep?

Sure, I knew the game we were playing, that we were pretending this was just a massage, but it loosened my grip on everything. Surely, with his lips literally on my clit, he didn’t want to act as though he were still just doing me a favor, did he?

Is that what he thought this was? Just something he did because I’d walked up and down those ladders? Because I was sore and he wanted me to sleep?

I wasn’t sure I really believed that, that he’d go this far, but Ruben was difficult to understand. Maybe it was. Maybe he’d started this and realized he didn’t feel the way he thought?

Maybe I’d just hit that point where people usually decided I was too much.

He erased the fear that I wouldn’t get off, however, when he focused his attention on my clit, when he dove back in as though my orgasm were his own personal trophy.

And I came despite everything, despite the questions, the uncertainty. I came apart beneath him, unable to hold myself together, to keep that part of me hidden.

As I trembled afterward, my body overly sensitive, I knew that was it. He wasn’t going to keep going. Sure enough, he pulled a blanket over me and returned to the book at the desk, leaving me there.

This fucking sucks.